


Either way, it's baked.

by LivefromG25



Series: Blow Me... A Kiss [3]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25859743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivefromG25/pseuds/LivefromG25
Summary: Tumblr kiss prompt - Unexpected Kiss.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: Blow Me... A Kiss [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1338070
Comments: 12
Kudos: 106





	Either way, it's baked.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure this was posted to Tumblr. But I can't remember. Slightly edited anyway because I can. I don't remember who asked for this one, I'm sorry.... It was written Feb 2020 which might aswell have been six years ago.  
> Who knew that divorce lark would eventually.... Not be fiction??

As the car came to yet another stop in a seemingly endless sea of red lights, Armie extracted his phone from his jean pocket and glanced out of the window. Only a couple more blocks. He typed a quick message, threw a quick witty retort about the state of the city at the back of his uber driver’s head and, as he tucked his phone back, watched the trail of a single droplet of rain as it cascaded down the glass.

He was only in New York for a couple of hours before he would be heading out again, but it was enough time to get to Timothee’s rented apartment, drop some bags off, catch up and settle the sub-letting agreement he’d made Timothee draw up.  _ “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right, Tim. Just because I am your friend…” _

Finally, those couple of blocks fell away and Armie was making his way up the stairs, a suitcase in each hand. The elevator would have been easier but he enjoyed the physical exertion after so long on the plane and then in the car, his legs grateful for the stretch. He also hadn’t been to this apartment yet and there was something about taking the stairs that allowed him to get a feel for the building. He liked the vibe here. Unlike previous places he’d found himself looking for Timothee, this place felt safe, secure. There was no litter in the stairwell for one. He couldn’t count the number of homemade bongs he had tripped over in his time. Yeah, he liked this place. 

As he finally reached Timothee’s floor and made his way down the corridor, marking off the numbers as he went, he took deep calming breaths. He wasn’t sure if it was from the exercise or the trepidation of finally seeing Timothee again, but his heart was racing. They’d reached newer ground lately and this would be their first face to face since. Now that he was  _ officially _ on the market, the shift had happened quicker than he had anticipated. Whilst Timmy had always been borderline flirtatious with him - it was just the way he was wired - it felt to Armie like the second he’d told him of his situation, a final switch had been flipped. He felt stalked, prey to Timothee’s relentless efforts to lure him in. He’d only be lying to himself if he said that he wasn’t willingly entering the lions den, but he did want to take things slowly. He’d waited 33 years to find someone like Timothee, there was really no reason to rush the final hurdles. 

And anyway, now wasn’t the right time either. They were about to be apart for months again, the universe seemingly having no real desire to align their stars or calendars any time soon. He was headed out to Chicago later and by the time he would be back to New York, right here where Tim should be, Timothee would have been slungshot over to London to begin his own theatre prep. The irony that Armie would be on Broadway whilst New Yorks very own theatre kid would be doing the same thing 3,457 (almost 4,000) miles away wasn’t lost on him. But. He could wait.

He fished out the key and tried to control the rush of  _ coming home  _ warmth threatening to overwhelm him as he slid the metal into the lock. 

The first thing he noticed - the first thing he _always_ noticed when entering any space Tim inhabited - was the music blaring from, he presumed, the kitchen. There was not a hope in hell that Tim would have heard him come in and the idea that he could surprise him a little caused excited little bubbles in the pit of his stomach. He dropped the bags down, kicked off his shoes and sauntered down the hallway towards the light spilling from an open door. 

He relaxed against the frame as he took in the view. Timmy had his back to him as he swayed in time to the beat, singing - or, more accurately, mumble rapping - along to whatever shite was blasting through the speakers. The oven was on and the room was filled with a rich chocolate aroma that had those bubbles in Armie’s stomach changing their focus. He was starving. 

A clatter pulled his attention from the oven door. 

“Armie! Fuck!”

Timothee quickly slid over the tiles to the other end of the counter, one hand to his chest and the other reaching to turn off the music. As the sound died away he turned back to Armie with a huge grin.

“You scared the shit out of me. Dude.” He raced over and flung an arm around Armie’s neck, jumping slightly, knowing full well Armie wouldn't let him land. He didn’t. His arm snaked around Tim’s waist and kept him aloft as they embraced. 

“Oh shit, my cake!”

Scrambling free, Timothee bounced over to the oven, opening the door and wafting the air with a tea towel that had been slung over his shoulder. Armie made his way over to the counter as Tim dropped the hot cake tin with a clatter. 

“What’s all this?”

“Well,” Timmy began, picking up a bowl of buttercream and giving it a stir through. “ _ This _ was meant to be a welcome to your new home cake, but you’re early and… well, I think I kinda misjudged how long _I_ could be baked before I had to do some baking, so…” he shrugged, nudging Armie out of the way slightly so he could transfer the cake to a cooling rack. 

“Man of many talents.” Armie murmured and he wasn’t sure if it was the thought that Timmy had wanted to bake for him, or the rich smell of chocolate, or just the overwhelming sense of feeling  _ right _ , but before he really knew what he was doing, his left hand was resting gently against Timmy’s hip as he moved behind him, his head lowering to press a single kiss to the vanilla-scented skin of Timmy’s neck. 

Dropping the cake onto the rack, Tim arched his back, tipping his head to the side, his voice a low rumble. “Armie? Whatareyoudoin’?”

Since he wasn’t really sure, Armie didn’t answer with words, he simply kept up his attack of Tim’s neck, soft kisses and gentle mouthing towards his ear, his hand leaving the curve of his hip only to brush curls out of the path of his lips. 

Timmy moaned and twisted in the tight space between the hard edge of the countertop and the very hard edge of Armie. He brought his hands up to Armie’s chest in an illusion of giving them some space but he put no force behind it and his touch only made Armie want to press forward even more. 

“I thought you said we needed time?”

The tone was reminiscent of how you’d talk to a skittish animal. Calming, authoritative, safe. 

Emboldened by security, Armie’s lips brushed against Tim’s cheekbone, across his ear, nipped gently at the crux of his jaw. He ghosted his way back to Tim’s mouth.

His right hand blindly explored the workbench behind Tim and returned coated in velvety buttercream. He spread it gently across the pillow of Tim’s bottom lip before chasing it with his tongue as Tim whimpered into the space between them. 

He dipped his finger into the heat of Tim’s mouth and groaned as Tim worked his tongue around the tip. 

“I know what I said.” Armie snaked his hand around the back of Tim’s head and a tight fist of curls had Tim tipping into his palm. Armie’s eyes feasted on the slack open mouth, lips chocolate lined and inviting.

“I guess I kinda misjudged how long _I’d_ wait before I was sick of waiting”.

With a devilish grin, Tim took hold of the collar of Armie’s shirt and pulled him close. Just before their lips met he exhaled with a whisper. 

“Mmm, then welcome home, _baby_.” 


End file.
